Decisions
by Belle of Storybrooke
Summary: A short story based on The Walking Dead.


"How many months has it been, Sam?"

There is a moment of silence. Alyssa's question takes his attention off the stick Sam was sharpening, his hands faltering in the mechanic movements. She watched him as he gaze out through the woods, thinking.

"Two months, give or take." He says, then resumes what he was doing before.

Alyssa watches him quietly for a moment, then picks up a sharpened stick from the pile. It's about as long as her arm and as thick as his. "Don't you think we have enough?"

With a final jerk, Sam finishes the tip and tosses it down with the rest of them, then picks up a dull one. "There will never be enough, Alyssa. We've got to be prepared, because you know just as well as I do that we could be attacked anywhere, at any time."

"I know, but Sam..." her voice trails off and she glances out in the woods. "I can't believe this is happening. Are we being punished by God?"

Her question makes him snort. "God? What God? I don't see one."

"Sam, how can you say that?" she whispers.

He throws down the half-finished stick and rises to his feet, glaring down at her. "I say that because there is no God, Alyssa. There never was. I didn't see God when this epidemic first happen, or when the Walkers started to rise in numbers, or when our parents were torn to pieces right in front of us. And I definitely don't see God here, in these woods, as we prepare to fight for survival, starving and dehydrated. And I don't know if there's a God, but I do know that if there is one, then he is one fucked up asshole."

Sam yanks a duffel bag off the branch of a nearby tree and kneels down, shoving the sticks inside, then zips it up. She continues to stare at him as he gathers the pocket knives and tucks them inside his pockets. "I'm going back to camp. You can come with or you can get eaten by a stray Walker. Your choice."

Ten feet into the woods and he hears her rushing to catch up. She's scared of being alone, yet she knows he would never let that happen.

Back at camp, Alyssa's German Shepherd, Sadie, runs up and wags her tail happily. She's tough as nails and reminds Alyssa of home. But family or not, Alyssa's lucky her dog isn't a barker. Otherwise, he wouldn't hesitate to put a bullet between her eyes. Walkers tend to go wherever sound is, and lots of sound is like ringing the dinner bell.

"Guarding camp while we were gone, little missy?" Alyssa coos, giving Sadie's head a pat on her way around the trailer.

"No, she was on her ass the entire time, sleeping," Wes grumbles loudly, peeking his head out from behind the front of the car. "How many did you make?"

"About ten. They aren't much, but they're better than nothing." Sam answer, tossing the duffel bag on the floor of the passenger side. "Especially since we're running low on bullets. We almost ready to go?"

"Just about. Funny thing happened earlier. Sadie was sniffing around and there was one spot that she went crazy over. Actually barked."

"What? You serious? Did you make her shut up?" he turns and jabs a finger at Sadie, who whines and bows her head. "You know better, you little shit."

"Yeah, I smacked her bottom and looked around. We got lucky. She shut up, but started to claw at that spot over there," he said with a flourish of his hand, gesturing to a medium sized hole behind Sam.

Sam walked over and knelt down, studying it cautiously. "Anything in there?"

"Just this," Wes held up a dirty glove.

"Seriously, Sadie?" he grumbled, leaning over to take the glove. "Why would she go nuts over this piece of junk?"

"That's what I said. But it looks pretty new, and when I took a closer look at it, I noticed dried blood on the hem," he said, pointing at a dark stain.

"Wes, don't tell me you think someone was buried here. What, do you think it was a mysterious murder?" he teased.

"It isn't funny, Sam." Wes shifted his weight to the other foot, glancing around uneasily. "I've got a bad feeling about this place."

"Wes, if you think that a buried man is more to worry about than these damn Walkers, then you-"

A high pitched scream pierced the air and Sam was suddenly on autopilot. His feet raced towards the car and he threw the door open, reaching inside the glove compartment for a pistol. On impulse, he grabbed one of the thicker sticks and ran around the trailer to see five Walkers closing in on his sister.

"Wes, I need backup!" Sam yelled, running forward and using the dull end of the stick to bash the female Walker in the head. Once she was on the ground, he drove the sharp end through one eye, then the other.

Wes looped around the other side of the trailer, swinging an ax he found the other day. He lifted it in a high arc and swung, slicing the head clean off one Walker and into the chest of another.

More Walkers started to trickle out of the woods, moaning and snarling. "Alyssa, get to the car!" Wes yelled. He killed the two that were almost upon her and Sam helped him cover her as she ran towards the trailer. She was about to jump inside when Sadie let out a loud whine of pain. Two Walkers fell on top of her and were tearing into her.

"Sadie!" Alyssa screamed, dropping down to pick up a rock and throwing it at the Walkers. "Get off her!"

The Walkers continued to slaughter the dog and Alyssa screamed out for him. He turned to see a third Walker on her.

"Alyssa!" Sam yelled as he swung the stick again and ran it through the chest of a Walker with half a face. It split down the middle and Sam threw one half at the Walker on top of his sister, skewering through its skull.

Alyssa flung the thing off her with a sob and ran inside the trailer.

"Sam!" Wes called out, cutting the head off another Walker. He quickly darted over the bodies and ran towards the driver's seat, starting up the engine.

His gun drawn, Sam slowly backed up, wasting three precious bullets on three Walkers that got too close for comfort. Once he was inside the car, Wes sped off before Sam could even close the door.

Chest rising and falling, he slowly leaned forward and placed the pistol back inside the glove compartment with the other guns and glanced at Wes. "Still think a supposed dead buried body is important?"

"Where's your humanity?" Wes muttered, lifting a hand off the steering wheel to wipe his brow.

"It died two months ago." Sam said cheerfully, roughly patting the man's shoulder as he got up and passed by him.

"Alyssa? You okay?" he called out, carefully shutting the door and taking a step towards the bathroom.

A low sob came from inside and she screamed as he tried to open the locked door. "Go away!"

"Alyssa, it's me, you idiot. Open the door."

"Go. Away."

"Like hell I will. Now are you gonna open this door or am I gonna have to break it down?"

No response came and Sam sighed, then braced my shoulder. "Alright then."

"Goddammit, Sam!" Alyssa snapped, unlocking the door and roughly throwing it open. "There! Now what do you want?"

Such gratitude for the man who saved your sorry ass, he was about to say before he saw the tattered blonde mess that was her hair and her tear-stained face. Then he noticed her arm, or rather, how her other hand was holding it.

His stomach twisted ominously.

She saw the look on his face and more tears fell from her eyes. "Sam, I-"

"Alyssa, show me your arms." his voice was low.

"Sam."

"Show them to me!"

She started to sob harder and he moved forward, grabbing her wrist and yanking her hand out, extending it. On her forearm was a bloody bite mark and Sam dropped her hand like it was acid.

She stumbled back and slumped against the wall, cradling her arm. "Sam, what do we do?"

Her brother couldn't answer her. His hands on his knees, panting, avoiding her teary gaze. His mind was racing.

"Sam?" she pleaded.

"What can we do, Alyssa? You've been infected. You're going to die and then you're going to become-" his voice broke off and he took in a ragged breath.

Alyssa sank to the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs, her tears increasing. "S-Sam, I don't want to d-die."

Tears pricked his eyes and he lifted his shaking hands, rubbing them away.

"I love you." she whispered.

"I don't know what to do." he moaned, moving his hands into his curly black hair and yanking tuffs out in frustration.

"You could chop my arm off. Sam, please. Chop it off. Please, I don't want to die!" she begged, holding her arm out in his direction. "Please, before it's too late."

"Alyssa, that won't help-"

"Yes it will! Now Sam, go get the ax from Wes! Please, Sam!"

He opened the door and shut it, slowly backing away from the bathroom, from the sobs that came from behind the door. His heart was pounding hard in his chest, his mind a mixture of grief, confusion, and fear. Shuffling through it was almost useless, until he came across a spark of certainty. He knew what he had to do. Losing an arm wouldn't do anything. The infection was in her bloodstream.

Alyssa Warren was a dead woman from the moment she tried to save her dog.

"How is she? Sam?" Wes called to him as he slid between the seats and took out the pistol he put away earlier. "Sam, what's going on?"

Ignoring him, Sam made his way back down to the bathroom and reached for the doorknob. He faltered for only a second, then swallowed back his fear and locked away his conscious.

Alyssa was slumped against the sink, her arm braced across it. "I'm ready." she spoke, blonde hair falling in tangles into her eyes. "Wait, where's the ax?"

Sam's chest was rising and falling rapidly and he was dimly aware of a dull ringing in his ears. He withdrew the gun from behind his back and pointed it at her forehead.

Her blue eyes widened and she started to shout his name.

"I love you." he whispered, then pulled the trigger.


End file.
